


Class

by Smilerlib



Category: Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilerlib/pseuds/Smilerlib
Summary: A Spanish lesson gets more interesting when you get a new teacher.
Relationships: Pedro Pascal/Reader, Pedro Pascal/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Class

The class room was so cold that evening, I could see my breath curling through the chilly air. I sat at the back with an extra jumper on, as well as my coat and gloves, hugging myself warm. My friend Gina came stomping back into the room, slumping into the chair next to me. She didn’t have to say a word, I knew from her black look we weren't getting any heating any time soon.

I hadn’t wanted to be there; Gina had dragged me along, declaring her Spanish class was boring as hell, every lesson left her comatose and she needed me to keep her awake. She promised to take me to the pub later, drinks on her, so how could I refuse?

‘Mrs Martin’s blind as a bat, she won’t even know you’re there,’ she reassured me when I asked if she was sure it’d be ok. ‘Just keep quiet and you’ll be fine.’

Checking the time, I realised Mrs Martin was more than 20 minutes late. Gina was restless, perched on the edge of the chair, crossing and uncrossing her long legs. Her face creased up in concentration as she scrolled through her Instagram, biting her fingernails. I bet she didn’t pay as much attention to the class as she did to her social media. I thumbed through her textbook to pass the time, wondering if I could learn the language through osmosis. I thought I might just about be able to order a beer, when the door slammed shut, a gust of air blasting into the room, bringing the whole class to attention.

The interloper was tall, his dark hair a little damp, like he’d just come out of shower. His face was flushed from exertion, but his demeanour didn’t betray his exhaustion. Without a word, he took off his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair. The class hushed, following his every move as he paced the perimeter of the room. He was taking us all in, assessing us, like a tiger stalking its prey.

‘ _That’s_ not Mrs M,’ I whispered in Gina’s ear.

'No kidding!’ my friend laughed, shoving her phone in her coat pocket. _Now_ she was paying attention.

He glanced across, catching my eye. I blushed like a naughty school girl caught graffiting the girls’ toilet. Any minute now he was going to tell me to stand in the corner or write out one hundred lines. Under that steely stare I wasn’t sure I could refuse. The room now felt like a furnace, and not just because of my extra layers. Shedding my coat and one jumper, I made myself smaller in my seat. If I could keep my mouth shut it’d be ok, I told myself.

‘I’m Professor Pascal,’ he announced, his voice deep and velvety. There were no excuses, no apology. He rubbed a hand over his face, masking his tiredness for a moment. ‘Mrs Martin is indisposed, so I’ll be taking the class tonight.’

Standing with one hand on his hip, he waited for this new information to sink in. I could feel the low murmur humming round the class, rumbling up the floor through my feet. It seemed like he’d cast a spell; without an order, textbooks were opened, pencils freed from their cases and notebooks exposed. The male students sat up straighter, puffing their chests out, trying to be the coolest, while the women leaned forward in their seats, fluttering their eyelashes in faux sexiness.

By now he’d reached my desk. I looked up a fraction, hiding under my fringe as he towered over me, blocking out the light.

‘So, Miss…? His long fingers inched down the register in his hand, searching for a name.

‘Miss Y/L/N, um, Y/F/N.’ I struggled to get the words out, my mouth was so dry. Gina stifled a giggle. I could’ve killed her. She was always getting me into trouble. My mind flipped through the ways I could get my revenge, but none seemed adequate for this amount of embarrassment.

‘Well, Miss Y/L/N,’ he exaggerated my name, elongating the vowels so they seemed to drip off his tongue. I wondered what else his tongue could do. I quickly swept away that unbidden thought. ‘You don’t seem to be on my list.’ Was he disappointed or pleased? His voice gave nothing away.

His body cast a shadow, like in one of those old black and white silent films where the shadow of the villain materialises before you see their face. My spine tingled in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, I dared to look up at him and I knew I wouldn’t be able to look away. He was studying me, amber highlights glinting in his dark brown eyes, his whole face crinkled in amusement. He’d loosened his tie, revealing the tanned skin at the base of his neck. The sight of it had me hypnotised, imagining the salty taste of his skin at that sweet spot. His stare burnt through me and for a moment I couldn’t even remember my name, let alone why I was there.

‘I-I came with my friend,’ I nodded in Gina’s direction. She’d immersed herself under the hood of her Parka so only her pink fringe peeped out. I was envious of her disguise.

Professor Pascal rubbed his palm across his moustache, brushing the salt and pepper stubble on his chin as he decided my fate. The room had become so quiet, I could hear the rattle of traffic on the road outside, even a fly buzzing somewhere above me on the ceiling. Time slowed as I waited for his verdict. A small smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. He was deliberately building the anticipation! The bastard was enjoying this! Around me, it felt like the whole class had frozen, a dozen breaths held in. Only his decision would free them from their stasis.

After the longest couple of minutes of my life, he walked back to the front of the class. Released, I sank back into my chair. A collective sigh filled the room. Had I gotten away with it? He rummaged in his battered briefcase, retrieving an equally battered textbook. It seemed I wasn't worth a reprimand. That thought deflated me. 

Just when I thought I'd escaped, he glanced up, finding me again.

‘Oh, Miss Y/L/N? ' He paused, waiting for me to react. 'See me after class.'

Biting my thumb, I stifled a groan. His eyes flicked to my mouth and he grinned. What would the punishment be for my transgression? 

He took a moment to watch me, letting the words sink in. Then, picking up the textbook, he found a place among the pages.

Ok, let’s begin.’

This was going to be torture.


End file.
